


Mistletoe

by miraworos



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21650773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraworos/pseuds/miraworos
Summary: Aziraphale helps Anathema throw a party not expecting a certain traveling demon to show up last minute.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 78
Collections: Mira's Good Omens Christmas Fic





	Mistletoe

“The decorations look lovely, my dear,” Aziraphale said to Anathema, as he handed her a red bow to affix to the garland looping the rafters in the sitting room of her small cottage.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I’m just glad to have someone to celebrate with. My family being half a world away makes holidays a little melancholy.”

Aziraphale smiled back, but it was an anemic, weak little thing. His own family was half a world away in the other direction, he expected. And, no, he didn’t mean Heaven. He’d never celebrated Christmas with them in any case, and now that Armageddon had come and gone, he doubted he ever would. The family he was thinking of at the moment was of the occult variety.

Sensing his mood, Anathema descended the ladder and placed a hand on Aziraphale’s arm.

“I know you miss him,” she said simply.

Aziraphale shrugged. “He never promised he’d be back.”

“He’ll be back. Maybe not for Christmas, but he wouldn’t stay away forever.”

“You’re right, of course,” Aziraphale said, tamping down his disappointment. He had no right to be forlorn about it. He and Crowley had often gone decades—centuries, even—without seeing each other, and it hadn’t bothered him before.

Something had changed after the end of the world. Aziraphale couldn’t put his finger on exactly how or when, but somewhere along the way, he’d grown used to seeing Crowley every day. He wanted to continue seeing him every day. Especially now that he had very little else to occupy his time.

“Why don’t you help me with the candles?” Anathema said, pulling him along. “It’ll be a lot easier to light them with a finger snap than with a lighter.”

Aziraphale obliged, and after another hour’s worth of odd decorating jobs, guests began to arrive. To keep himself from awkwardly standing in a corner, he awkwardly performed magic tricks for the increasingly unimpressed children in attendance. Eventually, Newt pulled him aside to engage in a deep conversation about the universe. The angel wasn’t sure his responses were terribly comforting to the young man, though, who’d gone quite pale as the discussion wore on.

Anathema finally rescued Newt by sending him off to get more ice for the punch bowl.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t traumatize my boyfriend at my Christmas party, or, you know, at all.”

“Sorry. I was just answering his questions.”

“Some things should probably just remain a mystery.”

“Duly noted.”

A companionable silence fell for a few minutes, and Aziraphale briefly debated with himself over whether he should avail himself of more hors d'oeuvres, or if she should simply call it a night. He thought of rousting Crowley for a nightcap at the bookshop before remembering, once again, that Crowley wasn’t there.

“I think I’ll just turn in, my dear,” he said with a soft smile. “It has been a lovely party. Thank you so—”

“Oh, don’t go, yet, Aziraphale. We haven’t even gotten to the karaoke. I bet you have a lovely bass voice that would pair well with Newt’s reedy tenor.”

Aziraphale blushed. “You would be disappointed in me, I’m afraid. I was never much of a vocalist.”

“I could never be disappointed in you, Aziraphale,” she said with a side hug. Humans really did so enjoy touching. Aziraphale was only just getting used to it.

“Will you make my farewells for me? I really should be getting back.”

“All right,” she said. “But let me just make you up a plate to take back with you.”

Aziraphale, never being one to say no to food, nodded in agreement.

Guests congregated in groups throughout the small cottage. Most of them were residents of Tadfield he’d never met before. The Them were there, of course, including Dog. And Newt. But nearly everyone else was a stranger Aziraphale had never met before. He closed his eyes and wished a small, holiday blessing on the guests in attendance in any case. He didn’t need to know them to know he cared that they were well.

Then the door opened, admitting a late arrival, and Aziraphale’s breath seized in his chest.

He looked the same, from his flame hair to his snakeskin shoes. Aziraphale wasn’t sure why he assumed he’d be different, but he’d apparently been wrong.

“Crowley,” he said softly, drifting involuntarily to where the demon had stopped in the middle of the room. “You’re— you came back.”

“Of course, I did, angel. I wouldn’t miss Christmas.”

“Oh?”

“Had a devil of time finding you, though. If it weren’t for Anathema’s text message, I would never have known where you were.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale repeated, his brain caught in a one-word loop, it seemed.

“I have a present for you,” Crowley said, with a crooked grin. Then he handed Aziraphale a book-shaped package wrapped in shiny red paper.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said again as he took the package from Crowley’s hand.

Then he looked up to see golden sparks reflected in Crowley’s sunglasses. Both demon and angel looked up to find the source of the sparks. But the sparks had faded, leaving a very recognizable, seasonal decoration, which Aziraphale had absolutely no memory of hanging, affixed to the rafter directly above them.

Crowley snorted in amusement. “Humans,” he said.

“Witches, more like,” Aziraphale corrected with a flat look at his host.

Anathema returned the look with a smug smile and a go-on gesture. And Aziraphale supposed he had no choice. Tradition was tradition after all.

So he mustered his courage, rose up a little on his toes, hands behind him, preparing to lay a kiss on his best friend’s cheek. Unfortunately, the demon picked just that moment to turn his head, and Aziraphale ended up kissing him full on the mouth.

The entire room of onlookers burst into applause as Aziraphale, shocked and alarmed, pulled away. But before he could miracle himself out of the room entirely, Crowley grabbed him by the arms and pulled him back in for a much deeper, longer, bone-melting-er follow-up kiss.

“That’s how it’s done, angel,” Crowley said afterward, his voice like velvet. “Care to try again?”

“Er, uh, sure,” Aziraphale said, his face hot, his collar cutting off his air supply. “Maybe, yeah. I could possibly. Is it hot in here?”

Crowley chuckled. “A little. Maybe we should go back to the bookshop?”

“Wait a minute!” Anathema called, as she hurried over, plate in hand. “Here you go,” she said, handing the plate to Aziraphale. Then she whispered in his ear, “Call me later.”

Grinning like an idiot, he was sure, he agreed, as Crowley pulled him out the door into the snowy Christmas night.


End file.
